


Post Case Blues

by belovedmuerto



Series: Three's Company [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddles, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock orders Greg to come over to Baker Street after a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post Case Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Again, no one has looked at this. In fact, I just finished writing it about ten minutes ago. So, mistakes might be present. Sorrynotsorry. I needed to write something today, and this ended up being it.
> 
> Also, still no porn.

Greg is staring down at least two hours of paperwork, and as is often the case it’s thanks to the efforts of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

He may be rather partial to the two of them but they regularly perpetrate way more carnage than necessary, incurring a considerable amount of paperwork. For him. Sherlock always seems to disappear when it’s time to do the paperwork, generally taking John with him. 

They’re clearly on their way out of Scotland Yard now, leaving him to do the mundane work. John is grinning ear to ear, meaning he got to do violence to some villain or other--violence that Greg is pretending not to notice because it got the job done. Sherlock has that air of smug superiority that Greg really shouldn’t find so endearing. But he does.

They’re off home to Baker Street to, as John has explained to Greg a few times, eat a ridiculous amount of food and fall into bed to sleep for twelve or fourteen hours. Sherlock does most of the sleeping and eating, according to John, who always wears a soft, smitten smile whenever he talks about Sherlock in post-case mode.

Greg’s only seen it once or twice himself, but he’s ok with that. Usually he doesn’t stumble in until hours after they’ve got home, when the flat is quiet. They have their own rituals, as Greg has his.

Sherlock is staring at him from across his desk as he puts his scarf on, a thoughtful look on his face. Greg blinks at him, then makes a shooing gesture.

“Go on, this is going to take me ages,” he says. 

John nods at him, still grinning, still high on adrenaline and Sherlock’s cleverness and violence. He leaves Greg’s office, headed towards the lift. Sherlock doesn’t follow him immediately, instead crossing the room to stand too close to Greg.

Greg feels like he’s being obvious, that his standing next to Greg’s chair looking down at him with _that_ look, the one that never fails to get Greg’s heart thumping, will broadcast their togetherness to the entire floor, but Sherlock quirks a brow at him.

“No one’s looking,” he chides, gently. Far more gently than Sherlock ever used to talk to him, but John’s been a positive influence on more than just Greg’s sex life.

Greg just looks up at him, his own brow quirked.

“You’re coming to ours tonight,” Sherlock continues. It’s not a request. It’s a command. Which is both completely typical of Sherlock and pretty rich, considering he’s rarely the one giving commands when they’re outside of work.

“Sherlock, I’m not up for--”

Sherlock just snorts. He straightens himself and turns the collar of his coat up, and sweeps out the door, only a minute or so behind John, not even long enough to make anyone suspicious.

Greg gets a text a few minutes later; checking his phone he sees it’s from John.

 _I think you better had._ That’s all it says, and Greg sighs, but he can’t stop the small smile it engenders either, because it’s nice to know they both want him.

\----

Mrs. Hudson lets him in with a knowing but pleasant smile, and he leans down to kiss her cheek, because Mrs. Hudson is Sherlock and John’s adopted mum and she takes a lot from them, especially Sherlock. Also, she’s got a sly sense of humor that Greg really appreciates.

“They’ve ordered a mountain of Thai food, better get up there and help them eat it, Detective Inspector,” she says, shooing him towards the stairs.

“Greg, Mrs. Hudson. Call me Greg.”

She smiles and nods, and he knows she probably won’t because he’s told her that five or six times now.

Greg heads upstairs, feeling both eager and somewhat torn. Eager, because he’s always eager to spend time with his two--lovers? boyfriends? gentleman callers? he’s not sure what to call them--but a little wary because he’s weary to the bone, and has just spent too long altogether filling out paperwork and he’s really not particularly up for the shag that is generally the main course when he comes over to Baker Street.

Not that he doesn’t want to, just… well, he’s not sure he’s up to it tonight.

John is in the kitchen when he enters the flat, turns and smiles hugely at Greg. 

“Ah, just in time, the food just got here. Hi,” John says, with that particular warmth of his directed fully at Greg. It makes his insides melt, just a little, and Greg is drawn immediately across the flat to John’s side. John smiles up at him, chopsticks in one hand and fork in the other, but he leans up and presses a quick kiss to Greg’s lips. 

“Sherlock’s in the shower. Go sit, what do you want to eat?”

“Everything,” Greg replies as his stomach rumbles its agreement.

John grins at him. “Go on, then, I’ll be out in a moment. Sherlock won’t be long, either.” 

“OK.” Greg wanders out to the sitting room, shedding his coat and jacket and tie. He sprawls out on the sofa, just a tiny bit uncomfortable because he doesn’t know what’s next. Food, obviously, which is good because he’s starving. But then what? 

They haven’t been together for very long, and they’ve not really done this before. Do they just hang out? Or is it all leading up to sex later?

Greg doesn’t really have the energy to worry much about it right now, though. He’s not sure he has the energy for sex either, but he’ll worry about that if and when the time comes. He just wants a quiet night, and he hopes that John and Sherlock do too.

Sherlock comes out of the bathroom before John comes in from the kitchen. He wanders out to the lounge and crawls onto the sofa, right into Greg’s lap, snuggling in, surprising the hell out of Greg with it. 

John comes in holding two plates a moment later. 

“Budge up, Sherlock. No falling asleep before you’ve eaten,” and he hands Sherlock one plate, Greg the other. He comes back again after another moment with his own plate, sitting down on Greg’s other side.

They both sit close to him, too close really, they’re all jostling elbows and bumping legs while they eat. Sherlock shovels food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days, which he probably hasn’t. John isn’t much better. 

The food calms him as it fills his stomach, and Greg decides that he’s amenable to whatever is going to happen.

By the time he’s finished eating, Sherlock is leaning heavily against Greg’s side, and John doesn’t seem to be doing much better. Greg gently extricates himself, and they lean against each other while Greg takes their plates into the kitchen.

When he comes back out, John is hauling a nearly asleep Sherlock to his feet. He drapes Sherlock over his shoulder and reaches out to Greg. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed, you must be as knackered as we are.”

Greg has a moment of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

John smiles and beckons. “Sherlock wouldn’t have said anything if we didn’t want you here, Greg. Come on, before he falls completely asleep; I don’t want to have to carry his bone arse to bed.”

Greg hurries over and takes some of Sherlock’s weight off of John, and together they drag him into Sherlock’s room, which appears to be Sherlock-and-John’s room now. John digs through the wardrobe and pulls out a ratty tee shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms, tossing them to Greg, who gratefully changes out of his two-days-old shirt and trousers.

Sherlock and John are already in bed when he turns, a very obvious space between them, so hiding his nerves, Greg crawls in between them. John spreads blankets over all three of them and turns out the lights. 

Sherlock snuggles into his side again, draping an arm and a leg over Greg and making a contented noise, his eyes shut, long lashes gentle against his cheek. John is on his other side, not quite as obviously possessive, but he leans in and presses a kiss to Greg’s cheek before settling down with his head on Greg’s shoulder.

Greg feels surrounded, and loved, warm and comfortable and _wanted_.

“We figured you’d need some company tonight,” John murmurs.

Greg nods. “It was a rough one.”

After a moment, he adds, “I thought you just wanted me to come over for a shag.”

“Sherlock says you need comfort sometimes after a case,” John tells him. “But also, he’ll sleep for twelve or fourteen hours so I expect to be shagged blind in the morning.”

“I heard that,” Sherlock grumbles.

"You'll be asleep, you won't care."

"John have you heard yourself during sex? You could wake the dead."

Greg just laughs, listening to them bicker, holding on to both of them, and feels himself finally relax. They’re all asleep within minutes.


End file.
